Young
by Dazzle My Vajazzle
Summary: Today is the day that Kelly Jones marries her St Trinian sweetheart, Annabelle Fritton and it was never going to be a conventional wedding. With the death of a family member and MI7 placing her in the firing line on top of usual St Trinian business, will Kelis fight or flee? Forgive them for what they have done 'cus they're young.
1. Prologue

My name is Kelis; call me anything else and you'll be begging for death when I've finished with you. If you don't know who I am then you will once I've finished telling you the story about how I went from being Kelly Jones' daughter and a St Trinian Head Girl to being an icon that brought fear into most men's hearts. If the mention of my mother's name hasn't already sent you screaming and crying off into the hills then you and I may get along. I may even grow to like you if you either don't have a clue who Kelly Jones is or who my father, Flash Harry, is. I can't stand being referred to as the following: Kelly's Girl, Miniature Kelly, Jones and/or anything that relates to my name and heritage. It is classed as pure stupidity to do that to somebody who is trained in multiple martial arts, firearm handling and of course the traditional skill of blackmail and bribery.

For those of you who have been with me since I was fourteen then you will know the basics (or maybe more details) about my humble life. If not then I think it will only be polite to tell you the main points since you haven't ran off crying. The boring, formal details include my name and age so in true Alcoholics Anonymous fashion, my name is Kelis Jones and today is my twenty-first birthday. I've always liked drink during the day but that is unavoidable when you attend the infamous St Trinians School for young 'ladies', I'm not an alcoholic. Like I've just stated, I attended t Trinians which won't surprise you if you have ever received the displeasure of meeting my mother. I spent a grand total of a week at St Trinians before running off to an island just off the cost of Spain with my idiotic cousin Jenifer French. Naturally this tribe had attempted to marry me off before sending me back to England 'for my own protection' three years later. At sixteen I returned to my homeland and decided to lead Mum, Annabelle, Taylor, Andrea and the rest of St Trinians on a wild goose chase before returning (after being kidnaped by Sir Piers Pomfrey and mistaken for Annabelle's daughter) to the school with Jen and my boyfriend at the time Pedro.

After all of this drama, I became the latest Jones descendant to become Head Girl at St Trinians. Then shit hit the fan during my reign. Now this is the part where things get complicated so keep up if you can, if not I suggest you get out of the kitchen. You see the thing is I had never met my dad Flash before I was fourteen; I was brought up by my Mum, Kelly Jones. Is that simple enough? Everything is about to get complicated so don't come moaning now that I've warned you. You see Mum was in a long term relationship with my headmistress, Annabelle Fritton, when I waked in on her in bed with Dad. At the time I didn't know what to do so I called Taylor and Andrea (because you can't have one without the other) who decided to bring in my estranged Aunty B. Now Aunty B was having issues of her own with juggling family life and being the leader a major mafia type gang, when Taylor called B was in prison so her eldest daughter, Kelly Jones Jr., was sent down to literally slap some sense into her namesake.

While all of this was going off I had my own worries to think about. My Spanish boyfriend Pedro had been summed back to the little Spanish tribal island to help his sick mother; before he left I decided to make him remember to come back. Like in all of the low budget films, I fell pregnant. Naturally the only person I told was Jen and she naturally decided to make jokes and laugh at my expense before taking things seriously. There wasn't a lot of time to worry about having a baby at seventeen years of age due to the reappearance (and my first meeting) of Rebecca Jones, Kelly Jones' younger sister and Kelly Jones Junior' mother. Now in case you were wondering, Aunty B and Mum are almost complete opposites. The main difference between them is that B is more open with her emotions than Mum is, she isn't as cold but at the same time she can be scary as hell.

Now this is where it gets scandalous. You see, Aunty B and her daughter Kelly Jones Jr. weren't on good terms. Jr. was slightly peeved because B had made her youngest daughter Georgie her heir to her massive fortune. Kelly Jr. thought she had the right to inherit the family gold because she was the eldest, but Aunty B had seen right through her. It turns out that Kelly Jr. was working with Sir Piers Pompous to get back at her Mum for this but instead the backstabber ended up dragging every Tom, Dick and Harry into it. I ended up being kidnapped again and losing the baby due to the situation she put me in. It's fine though, we got our revenge. A big battle was the result of my kidnapping.

While I was busy playing the damsel in distress, Kelly Junior was busy causing trouble on behalf of that Pomfrey git. To sum it up, she ended up splitting Mum and Belle up by planting a copy of the CCTV footage of Mum and Dad going at it in Fritton's room. Her plan was too frame Becca Jones for her crime against blood ties and family values, but my aunt wasn't and still isn't a fool. This led to B coming to my rescue whilst Mum rallied up an army that could take over the world. After a few days locked up, I was busted out along with Aunty B by my other cousin Georgie (B's youngest, Kelly Junior's little sister etc.) and we go stuck into the epic battle to the death. The battle didn't last long due to St Trinians and The Scorpion Gang (Aunty B's mafia) teaming together to outnumber the AD1 goons. We all went home, Mum and Fritton got engaged and we all played happy families, however shit is about to hit the fan again. Honestly, there's never a lot of peace and quiet in my life!

Today is the day that Kelly Jones finally marries her St Trinian sweetheart, Annabelle Fritton.


	2. Primitive Socialisation

_**Kelis POV**_

Today is the day that Kelly Jones marries her St Trinian sweetheart, Annabelle Fritton and it was never going to be a conventional wedding. Mum and Fritton have asked (or demanded if you ask me) that all St Trinian guests wear their old or present school uniform, this includes her and Fritton. I've not had a choice in how I am to dress, it feels weird turning up to a ceremony dressed in my school uniform with a Head Girl badge pinned to my left lady lump. However, I'll have to grin and bear it. They've booked their honeymoon for the day after the last day of term which naturally means a few house parties here and there and an attack on Mum's prized wine.

It's strange to see my mother dressed in her old school uniform when she's close to the menopause. I've heard everyone describe her legendary pencil skirt, blouse, choker and tie combo and I've seen the photos of Mum back when she was the Head Girl (you can't miss the shrine dedicated to her in the unused library). When I was younger and when times were so much simpler, I used to always try to take that very same tie from its place in Mum's wardrobe. I used to climb up onto her bed and marvel at the two colours on the tie of the school I have been a Head Girl to since September. I'll never forget my one and only attempt at grabbing it.

I was only around five or six; I was still at an age where Mum was my one and only hero who fought off the monsters under my bed. Like on most week days, Mum was preoccupied with phone calls and other boring adult pass times. I wanted to feel the thrill of an adventure and the rush of adrenaline that was continuously described in my bed time stories (my favourite story was the one where Cinderella told her step mother where to shove it and walked off with Prince Charming). As a kid I always dreamt of running around and saving the world with Mum from mad scientists and my most despised enemy, the Barbie doll. It was these fantasies that drew me to the dusty and transparent clothes cover that hung in that IKEA special wardrobe.

I wasn't as stealthy as you would expect the daughter of an MI7 agent to be, I wasn't even tall enough to reach either, so I yanked on it. The bag fell down with a loud crash, pulling the rail and the other clothes down with it, but I didn't care. I pulled my prize from the wreckage and simply unzipped the bag and tugged the tie free. The loud crash of the collapse of the inside of the wardrobe had alerted Mum to my misdeeds and she came rushing in, only to find me fiddling with the only piece of compulsory St Trinian uniform.

I will always remember the way she smiled at me with pride and I will always remember the way she chuckled to herself before lifting me up and sitting on the bed with me. I then spent what felt like hours listening to all of her stories about every adventure she went on, every bad guy she stopped and every detail about her beloved school. It was that day when she had told me that I would attend St Trinians when I was either ready or a known arsonist. I've never liked fire, I've always hated the way it destroyed everything in its path. This would make me the world's worse arsonist according to Polly.

Now, here I am over a decade later from that event and so much has changed. I haven't become the daughter Mum always wanted, when I got into St Trinians the first time I was out within about two weeks. I constantly try to avoid people knowing my relations and I get offended when I get referred to as Kelly's daughter. Somehow, Mum doesn't seem to get offended by this. That's one of the positive things of having a St Trinian as a parent (unless that parent was a former Chav); they always seem to understand the need for individuality. However, today I shall be walking side by side Kelly Jones, brandishing my heritage. Let the fun times begin!

Mother and I are currently lounging around in the Head Girl's room, my room. The ceremony is due to start within the next hour and we are both ready, we're just waiting on the other two bridesmaids and of course Aunty B. I've decided to edit my normal uniform just for this event; it felt wrong to not make the effort for my own mother's wedding, or funeral depending on how you see these things. In place of my usual blazer, there's a small black waistcoat with the school's emblem stitched into the top left hand side and my Head Girl badge pinned slightly below it in a casual horizontal position. I have kept the normal long-sleeved blouse buttoned up, missing the bottom few buttons with a black singlet on underneath. However I have swapped the usual skinny black trousers for an innocent looking skirt, long white socks with a blue trim (to fit in with the school's colour scheme) and black heels. The one thing I am without is my tie, Mum's tie. In all honesty, I feel almost naked without it.

I can't help but stare at Mum, it always feels odd when an old Head Girl comes to visit and demands to see Kelly Jones. I've never understood why half of them have left either crying or cowering in fear at the mention of the name Kelly, but now I can see why. She's stood, looking at herself in my floor length mirror. Her eyes aren't warm and forgiving like I am used to, instead they are cold, hard and daring you to challenge them. Her jaw is set and her lips are graced with a balanced smirk that even makes me question my self-worth, then her face quickly changes as our identical eyes lock in the mirror. Mum quickly spins around and steps towards me before pulling me into a warm motherly hug.

The moment is ruined when two dishevelled bridesmaids tumble into the room panting. One dressed in a small tartan skirt, white blouse pushed up to the elbows with a black pull over vest and chunky short tie, topped off with seemingly natural curls. This bridesmaid was every bit a traditional Chav, complete with chewing gum and nail file. The second bridesmaid looked fresh from a horror film. Like the Chav she was dressed with a standard blouse and short skirt; however her outfit consisted of red and black stripy leggings, random badges and a small long sleeved blazer. Her black hair had been left to dangle wildly around her shoulders with its red highlights and her piercings, this one even has the letter A drawn on in the corner of her eye.

"Shit the bed," Taylor says in awe. "You still look like Kel init!"

"Funny that," I mumble, earning a sharp glare from the Chav bridesmaid.

"What Taylor means is that you still look like the eighteen year old Kelly," Andrea adds. "The Chav has primitive social manners and therefore cannot process a compliment without it being insulting."

"Where's Becca?" Mum asks, turning to Taylor with a sharp glare. "I thought I asked you to not let her out of your sight!"

"Chill out yeah? She's a grown woman init."

"That translates as Becca managed to get Taylor drunk last night and then disappeared from the face of the Earth, Polly can't even find her."

"She'll turn up when she's hungry," I tell them all. "Now let's go, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner Taylor stops whinging." I say as I usher them all out of my bedroom.

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_**I know I should be updating other things rather then starting new fics but I'm getting there, new fic for a new year makes perfect sense**_

_**Review because I made a £10 tip today, always serve the big spenders and old folks**_


	3. Tweedle Bling and Tweedle Corspe

_**Kelis POV**_

I herd Mum, Taylor and Andrea out of my room as a sheep dog would with a flock of its farmer's sheep. I quite like that metaphor; it's surprisingly accurate with the way that most people follow the _inspiring, courageous_ and generally annoying Kelly Jones around. If I've learnt one thing over the years of my considerably short life it's that anyone will do anything for a piece of the Kelly pie, that's why today's main event has had such a big turn out and not because of the free food at the reception. Although, from what I've been hearing, most of the guests that are sitting patiently in their seats have merely turned up to witness the winnings and losses of their multiple bets on Mum's and Fritton's relationship and the ceremony. Those who betted against Aunty B turning up and fulfilling her duties of giving Mum away (because apparently Mum doesn't get along with her own Mother) would've just won themselves a large sum of money.

As we round the corner that leads to one of my most favoured short cuts, a somewhat casual tone of voice drifts to our ears. The voice changes from casual to venomous and back to casual again with every sentence the owner speaks. As we advance further towards the new sound wave, it starts to ooze with a sickening power that doesn't quite make you cringe away (like Fritton's angry voice) or make you run for the hills (like Mum's boom of a yell) but it still makes Taylor nervously twiddle her thumbs in an unknown worry. "I am on top," the voice snarls. Before I can go any further, Mum suddenly places her hand on my stomach and pushes (or pulls from her perspective) back into her slender arms in a protective manner.

"Becca," she whispers into my ear.

"Don't be blinded by your arrogance," another voice answers with a matching growl. "You should go and dig up your grave now because with the way you're acting, you won't be here in two months."

"Do you have to be so bloody dramatic?" Aunty B laughed. "The predator doesn't get eaten by its prey."

"Arrogance!" The second voice spat.

"Common sense," B snarled back.

"I should've followed my instinct and forced you to step down before you got too into this lifestyle. You are far too arrogant and childish to be in charge of such a powerful organisation!"

"Oh yes," came the sarcastic reply. "Because Kelly would've happily stepped up and dragged herself, Kelis and Belle into the criminal underworld. A round of applause for that ladies and gentlemen!"

"Who's Kelis?" With a swift movement, Mum charged forward and stepped into the firing line of the bickering pair. Not wanting to miss the show (which was starting to resemble a cheesy soap opera), me, Tweedle Bling and Tweedle Corpse followed her loyally.

"Perfect timing as always Kelly," B grinned. "I must say, you all look very dashing. What's the occasion?"

I couldn't help but let my eyes roll at my aunt's comment; I could see exactly where my idiotic cousin Jenifer French has inherited her own sense of humour from. Aunty B is dressed in her own version of the St Trinian's uniform and it is the polar opposite to the style of Mum's. Like many of the current and previous students, B didn't wear the standard school blazer. Instead she has opted to wear a silvery grey, American high school styled jacket with the hood resting comfortably on top of her head. The sleeves of the jacket are pushed up to the base of her elbows to reveal the bold tattoo on the inside of her left wrist and the freshly wrapped school tie on her other wrist. On the jacket itself, (stitched carefully over where her heart was) a small school emblem sat proudly, challenging everybody who dared to look. However, on the left side of her jacket sleeve another iconic logo was carefully embroidered in a delicate silver thread, the scorpion.

The rest of Aunty B's 'uniform' is pretty basic. She wears a white and un-tucked school blouse with deliberately scuffed black skinny jeans and black high-tops with a folded over fur trim. B's eyes sparkle with the promise of mayhem and mischief as she innocently smiles at her elder sister. I sigh mentally to myself, that is a clear sign of the fun times that are about to come. It's easy to predict that my childish aunt has some dastardly deed planned which will probably ruin my plans of slipping out later to avoid the Jones compliments that I am sure to receive.

Mum looks back into Aunty B's mischievous eyes with her own unique glare before the owner of the second voice (an elderly woman) interrupts them. "Kelly," she greets. "Who is Kelis?"

"Mine and Belle's new dog," Mum answers without hesitation and without breaking eye contact with B. My aunt bites her bottom lip in a fruitless attempt to conceal her growing smile; it doesn't take a high IQ like Mum's good friend Polly to tell that B is failing to stop herself from laughing. I, on the other hand, look at Mum in disbelief (which she ignores), what normal parent would call their eldest and only child a dog? "Please excuse the intrusion Mother but we are needed elsewhere."

Mum roughly grabs B by the elbow and drags my unwilling Aunt off into the distance whilst muttering insults that are far too rude to repeat. As the two sisters leave, Tweedle Bling and Tweedle Corpse take up their positions at my side with faces so serious that it makes them look ready to take a bullet in order to protect me. Not wanting to be in this elderly woman's (or technically Grandmother's) presence any longer, I smile politely at her scrutinising face and then walk off in the same direction as Mum and B.

Eventually we step out into the bright sunshine of a slightly cloudy day. In the distance there's the noise of light chatter and the chime of cheerful laughter, there's also the insults that are freely being thrown back and forth between tribes but we'll just ignore that for this occasion. I can't help but smile at the peacefulness of the grounds (even with the slight bickering that is currently going on between Taylor and Andrea); for once I do not have to worry about anyone murdering each other. But before I can jinx it further, the music changes and everybody shuts up in an instance.

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_**Review because I totally haven't been frolicing in the snow whilst trying to write**_


	4. Ties That Bind

_**Kelis POV**_

As everybody takes up their positions, the music that signals the start of the ceremony begins to play. Although it is an unorthodox choice of music (an acapella version of the old school chant), it fits in with the rest of this wedding. As rehearsed, Aunty B walks beside Mum on her left whilst I walk on her right. Behind us walks Mum's own sidekicks Andrea and Taylor who have been both threatened by Mum to be on their best behaviour. For once in my lifetime, I hold my head high as I walk alongside two of St Trinian's most famed Head Girls who I also happen to be related to and I do it without scowling or complaining. When we reach the front of the seated crowd (after a prolonged strut down the makeshift aisle), Taylor and Andrea break away to sit on the front row beside Polly whilst I unfortunately stand off to the side next to my mischievous Aunt. "What are you up to?" I whisper upon seeing her subtle grin.

"It's rude to whisper during a religious ceremony," B replies as Annabelle starts to proceed down the aisle with her own Aunt Camilla and best friend Chelsea. Behind them walks Annabelle's version of Mum's Emo and Chav duo, Bianca and Zoe.

"When have you cared for manners?"

"Since this morning," she winks before turning her attention back to the ceremony.

"Why doesn't Mum acknowledge my existence to family members and anybody who isn't a St Trinian?" I whisper in demand.

"Her version of shielding you from kidnappers and opportunists, just trust Kelly and you'll be set for life."

"Thanks for that piece of life changing advice," I mumble sarcastically.

"You, my favourite niece, are very welcome," Aunty B grins.

The ceremony carries on without any more comments between myself and my youngest aunty, whatever threat Mum has laid upon B seems to have worked. Songs are sang and beats are played as this very unique event begins to come to its climax, the vows. However, as this is a St Trinian wedding (the first one that has been between two St Trinian head girls) there are different rituals and blessings that need to take place before the climatic vows. As the current ruling Head Girl, I have the absolute honour of threatening the groom to look after the St Trinian bride, be true to her and treat her as his equal (as I did at Chloe's third wedding to a Scottish aristocrat a few months ago). However, as Polly pointed out during the wedding the wedding plans, they are both St Trinians. This slight problem was just a bump in our road to planning a wedding between two of the most celebrated Head Girls in St Trinian history (second to only Camilla Fritton herself), another problem that arose was the status of Mum and Fritton which then posed questions on the approach we all should take. It was all a big ball ache really and it meant that I actually had to do some form of homework.

My role in this ring binding ball ache is one of great importance and privilege, according to our resident St Trinian preacher (and closeted alcoholic) Miss Dickinson. As a Head Girl I had a duty to 'protect' the bride's sense of anarchy by reciting the first St Trinian to have been written down and bless the marriage on behalf of the school and all who have entered its walls. I also had to retell a story from a dusty book full of St Trinian history and then make a song and a dance about how great it is to be free and wild. However, as the daughter to one half of the couple (and the next of kin), I also had to promise to embrace anarchy and pledge my loyalty to the St Trinian way. It is all very confusing and complicated but according to Camilla it was one of the only traditions that St Trinian girls actually cared for and honoured. So here I stand, waiting to demand that both Mum and Fritton protect each other's sense of anarchy whilst pledging my loyalty to St Trinians on behalf of a family that had produced many generations of Head Girls. Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky.

"As St Trinian Head Girl, I am responsible for overlooking and protecting current and previous students and the anarchy that they have willingly embraced." I announce during my little time slot in Polly's wedding schedule. "However, this isn't an ordinary St Trinian wedding to state the obvious. We have the beloved and celebrated Kelly Jones, who has defended St Trinians continuously and fought on its behalf countless times. In addition to this, we have her St Trinian sweetheart Annabelle Millicent Fritton who too is one of our own. I suppose it doesn't help matters that Annabelle is our current headmistress, descendant of the great Millicent Fritton, Arabella Fritton and of course, Camilla Fritton or that Kelly is a living legend, it makes the matter of threatening and blackmailing them to look after each other more difficult." I recite as I read Polly's helpful autocue.

"I am told that I am to read from 'St Trinian's A History' as Head Girls have done so before me," I continue, carelessly throwing out my own nickname for the book. "But my head has been filled with St Trinian tales by my mother ever since I was born so I thought I'd divert from the traditions of our fore sisters and retell my favourite tale, which involves a significant point in my own family history but, more importantly, is finally reaching its conclusion today." I smile as I remember the countless times Mum would recite the story when I couldn't sleep at night. I sneak a quick glance towards Mum to see whether or not my risk was going to work or not, judging by the soft smile on her face I would say it was.

"Our story begins during my mother's time as Head Girl, a time filled with unrest and abnormal disruption. A grey cloud loomed over our holy grounds and threatened them with closure and boutique hotels. A slimy, greying Carnaby Fritton finally gave into the last demands of Arabella Fritton and gave his daughter to anarchy. Skip forward a few months and we find my own mother leading both Annabelle and the school to victory in the form of a TV quiz show," I wink at them all, every St Trinian present should recognise my true meaning. "We also see a relationship blossoming between my parents despite the shameless flirting between both Kelly Jones and Annabelle Fritton which even somehow continued during Kelly's adventurous stage during Annabelle's time as Head Girl. However, at the end of my aunt, Rebecca Jones' reign as Head Girl, it all came crashing down over them."

From the corner of my eye, I see Mum and Fritton avert their gazes from the crowd and become interested in the floor beneath them. I know that this story isn't the easiest of stories for anyone who has been involved. I suppose it'll never be easy for Mum to forgive Dad for luring her Fritton to bed or for Fritton to truly forgive herself for allowing such an event to happen. Every St Trinian present knows about this particular part in the fairytale of Kelly and Annabelle, they know that this event caused the disappearance of the esteemed Head Girl for a good fourteen years. They also know that it was this event that the lead to them missing out (as many of Mum's school friends have told me) on the early years of my life, something that they'll never truly get over.

"The result of the events that happened at six thirty that morning was the disappearance of Kelly from her blood ties and her school ties. It has lead to many changes and lead to many people being cheated of what they truly desire. The events which followed will go down in history as one of the longest St Trinian depressions which only ended a few years ago when Kelly returned to her school a different woman. I will never be able to forget that day, when I look back on it now I remember the disbelief upon all of your faces. Above all I will never be able to forget what Verity Thwaites mumbled under breath as I left Cheltenham Ladies College after terrorising her for at least two years." I smirk, mirroring Mum's.

"Kelly Jones returned to St Trinians with myself, her eldest and thankfully only daughter, in tow. For the few mere days that I spent in the walls of the school I found myself and Mum rediscovered herself. I watched as they admitted their own desires toward each other, like most of you who are sat before me today to witness the marriage between them. I don't know what happened in the few years that followed after them, it is well known that myself and my cousin made our escape on that very day, following my own adventurous nature. However I am told that our headmistress helped to nurse my mother's broken heart and stood by her side, for that I am grateful. Upon my return to these grounds after my own adventure which feature adrenaline, love, lust and loss I had the opportunity to witness their relationship flower into what you are all witnessing today. Annabelle herself has instantly treated me as if I am her daughter and as if I am of her blood. She has stood by and caught me when I have fell off of the thin tightrope that I am constantly balancing on. Most importantly, she has helped me cope with my own loss that I suffered earlier this year and it is for these reasons that I am happy to bless them as Head Girl and happier too renew my families pledge to St Trinians and anarchy. Maidens of St Trinians, gird your armour on!" I quote with a smile on my face.

I step down from the mini podium that had been set up purely for the speeches with the roaring St Trinian crowd and watch Mum and Fritton exchange the traditional vows with a bored and impassive expression on my face in order to keep up my Head Girl exterior. As vows are exchanged, I notice Aunty B stare off into the crowd of people with a glare on her face and her body tense. She then rummages inside her customized jacket and pulls something out, I can't see what exactly it is because it's held in her tight fist. In a gesture to whoever she's glaring at, she allows her fist to loosen slightly, letting the sunlight hit a tiny part of the object before smirking and slipping it away again. Then her head turns back to the ceremony and her smug smirk morphs into a soft smile as she watches Celia produce a St Trinian tie and loop it around Fritton's and Mum's linked hands.

"I now pronounce you two wife and er, wife." As Mum and Fritton kiss, I watch my Aunt's determined face and still tense fists. Something's going on and I doubt it's a lovely wedding surprise. It seems to me that every St Trinian here my need to gird their armour on or get caught up in whatever B's planning.


End file.
